Darkest Nights and Brightest Stars
by jkleeberger22
Summary: Modern Day AU. Han Solo storms the office of the mayor's secretary to protest being fined for a property maintenance violation. But the new young secretary seems immune to his charms...Can a drive in Han's beloved pickup that he has dubbed the Falcon help smooth things over?


Disclaimer: Star Wars is the property of Lucasfilm and Disney. I don't own any of it, except for this modern interpretation of my favorite SW couple.

O0o

An old hodge-podge of parts rumbled into the parking lot of the mayor's office. It certainly had no correlation to the sleek feathers of a bird as the proud words "the Falcon" dared to suggest on the custom-made bumper sticker.

Han Solo hopped out of the truck, running one hand through his hair and clutching a slip of paper in a vice grip with the other. The sight of the bright yellow notices in his mailbox was growing far too familiar.

As he stormed across the parking lot and up onto the sidewalk, he happened to catch a glimpse inside the large window of the secretary's office. Instead of Mrs. Shmi's patient, lined face, he was surprised to find a head of brown hair barely peeking over the top of the tall service desk. He'd heard of hair turning gray overnight, although he was pretty sure that was an exaggeration, but he had never heard of it turning _back_.

Han yanked open the door and interrupted the steady, rhythmic sound of typing by letting it bang shut behind him. From what little of the young woman's head Han could see over the desk, he guessed that she had jumped.

She showed no sign of surprise in her posture or her face by the time he peered over the top of the desk. Goodness, but she was even shorter than he had expected. Han had probably looked more mature when he had been sitting in his foster father's big chair in the den with his feet dangling off the ground and his fingers busy making small chains out of paperclips. "Where's the mayor's secretary?" he demanded.

"Mrs. Shmi retired, and I am her replacement," she replied. "May I help you, sir?"

"Actually, yeah. It would be nice if you would explain _this."_ Han slammed the yellow slip of paper down on the desk.

She picked up the paper, lips moving silently as she reviewed the information. "It's a citation for violation of property maintenance statues—"

"Thank you very much, Your Highness," Han interrupted, "but I can read that myself."

"Then you have a problem with it?" she said, her voice exhibiting the same control that was evident in her tightly woven crown braid.

"Aw, come on. Everyone around here knows that Inspector C. Threepio's a stickler. My yard was hardly a scrap heap! I just had a couple tools and some parts out while I was tinkering on the Falcon."

Her lips were pursed skeptically, but Han gave her his best puppy-dog expression and plowed on. "This is the third time in the past six months they've tried to fine me! And it's taking a toll on my debts. My landlord's going to be out for my head if I don't pay up. Isn't there something I could do to avoid that fine?"

"Sure."

A smirk threatened to tug up the corners of Han's lips, but he managed to disguise it as a grateful grin. And he was grateful. Getting out of trouble would be easy with this young, inexperienced employee in the mayor's office. "Really? Well, thanks, sweetheart. What do I have to do?"

"Spend a night in jail for refusing to pay your fine." She smiled at him sweetly and returned to her typing. Han's mouth dropped open in surprise, but he wasn't about to be dismissed like that. Anyone who thought they could best him, verbally or otherwise, was about to have another thing coming.

"Marching into a detention area is not what I had in mind," he said, locking eyes with her and making a poor attempt to swallow his irritation.

She returned his gaze evenly. "Don't worry. You have a full two weeks to pay the fine."

"Two weeks? Miss—"

"I'm sorry, sir, but if I made an exception for you, I would have to make one for every single person in this town. If you want to protest further, you'll have to contact the court. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work I must accomplish for Mayor Organa before noon." She turned her swivel chair and refocused her attention on her computer screen, the sound of her typing filling the silence.

"Does that work also involve cheating honest— "he thought might have seen her roll her eyes, and he repeated more forcefully, " _honest_ people out of their money?"

Her eyes flashed, and anger was being to leak through the forced calm in her voice. "Honest is a relative term when said people are trying to bribe those in positions of authority. And Mayor Organa has _never_ cheated anyone out of their money, and he would never tolerate anyone in this office to do so."

"Then what do you call charging a ridiculous sum like this?" Han shot back, stabbing at the paper with his finger.

This time, her gaze didn't budge from her computer screen. The tap of her fingers against the keyboard didn't falter, although Han noticed it was growing louder and more forceful. "I am not going to argue with you anymore. I have work to do."

"Yeah, because all you politicians care about are your laptops and laws. Your work is ever only in your office for your own benefit, not for the city or us."

She rose abruptly, shoving the swivel chair back before marching out from behind the desk, hands planted firmly on her hips. The secretary looked even shorter when standing up, but somehow that didn't diminish the threat in her posture. An uneasy feeling coiled in Han's stomach as he revised his first impression of her as a child playing office.

"For your information," she said coldly, "I am updating the city's website with information about a fundraiser being held to help poor students who attend the local schools. Pay your fine, get that bucket of bolts your neighbor keeps complaining about out of your front yard, and leave me to do my job!"

Only one part of the tirade stood out to Han. "Bucket of bolts?! That's my truck he's talking about! I've spent over ninety hours customizing the Falcon!"

The girl froze and blinked at him. Clearing her throat and sounding a bit more subdued, she said, "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not part of the department that investigates those complaints personally, and I didn't know he was referring to your car. I was just told you had a pile of scrap on your driveway and lawn."

Han scowled. "Palpatine is just a grouchy old man who's always plotting to get me in trouble. And a retired politician to boot!"

His mind knew it wasn't a good idea to continue maligning politicians in front of this ambitious, idealistic secretary who probably wanted to become one herself one day, but his tongue wasn't good at taking orders. It never had been.

Sure enough, the young woman's eyes narrowed in response. The swivel chair creaked as she leaned back, crossing her arms. "He seemed sweet enough when he came and spoke to me."

Han rolled his eyes. "Naturally."

They glared at each other over the top of the desk. He was getting nowhere, so Han decided to end the standstill. As his friend Lando from college had always told him, a little sweet talking could do more to get you what you wanted than all the irritation and imitation in the world. He propped his elbow on the desk and leaned against it, crossing his legs in a lazy, confidential pose. He offered the young woman his most charming grin.

"Look, I'm sorry for bothering you when you're trying to work. Can I make it up to you? I'd love to take you out for a drive in the Falcon, and then you'll see how fast a bucket of bolts can really go."

The sharp, dark brown eyes appraised him, and he was sure she was going to say no. She might be young, but this secretary knew a trick when she saw it.

She also knew how to catch him off guard, and apparently, it pleased her to do so. "How about tonight?"

"Tonight?" Han asked, startled. "Uh, sure. Where should I pick you up?"

"I'll write it down for you." She plucked a piece of paper out of one of the drawers and scribbled down an address.

"Thanks, sweetheart," Han said, glancing down at it. His gaze froze, eyes widening. "Wait. This address…"

"Is where my dad lives," finished the young woman. She, Han now knew, could only be Leia Organa. The mayor's daughter.

O0o

"You got a date?" A face surrounded by a mop of shaggy, shoulder-length brown hair appeared in the mirror beside Han's reflection.

"Yeah. I was trying to convince the mayor's new secretary to look the other way about that fine." Han winced and finished buttoning up his new white shirt. "Turns out she was his daughter."

"You want me to come with you?" asked the young man, whose nickname had been Chewy ever since an incident with an inedible steak in college. He had been Han's roommate since Chewy's own home had burned down in a fire two years ago, and gratitude had guaranteed that the young man hadn't left his side since. His presence didn't seem to decrease Han's chances of getting in trouble, though; instead, Han increased Chewy's. That was a fact Han was all too aware of.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Chew. No need to get both of us in trouble," he said, shrugging into his casual black vest. "And you might want to think about a haircut before your next date anyway, pal. Just leave me something to eat when I get back, okay?"

Han trudged out to the driveway, shooting dirty looks at his neighbor Palpatine's curtained windows, and began grabbing a few of the scattered tools. He tossed them into his toolbox and hoisted it into the backseat of the Falcon. Even he had to admit that she wasn't much of a looker and that she was unusually prone to breakdowns, but she was his. And she was the fastest pickup he had ever seen, viral Youtube clips of souped-up trucks included. If he could ever get her to hold together, racing would be on their horizons.

Fortunately, tonight the Falcon decided not to dash those dreams and obligingly started for him. Now, if only Leia Organa would be so cooperative.

From the skeptical way her eyebrows lifted when she strolled out into her yard and saw the Falcon, Han suspected she would not.

"You came in that thing? You're braver than I thought," were the first words out of Leia's mouth. Han couldn't help but wonder if she was truly talking about the Falcon, or if the implication was that he was brave to follow through on his offer of a date after it had been an obvious bribe.

It was enough, for once, to make him bite his tongue.

Despite her short stature, the leap into the cab didn't faze her. Apparently anticipating this, Leia hadn't dressed up too much for their date and was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, a white cold shoulder blouse, and a small silver necklace. She turned the simplicity of it into a statement. Now that he wasn't quite as mad at her and the government in general, Han realized that the mayor's daughter actually was pretty cute.

They made small chat as the Falcon rumbled out into the countryside. Once they were out of sight of the town and they were on a desolated road with a high speed limit, Han prepared to give Leia a real show. He gunned up the Falcon's engine… Only to have it roar in protest before going completely silent. Not quite the show he was expecting. The truck jolted through a rut, smashing Han and Leia's shoulders into each other before the tires rolled to a stop. Han bit back a curse, and his tongue in the process. He swung open the door, jumped down, and stomped around to the front of the Falcon to yank open the hood. The faceful of smoke he got in the process didn't improve his mood any.

Leia stuck her head out the window, her expression making it evident that she was wondering if she should laugh, sigh, or make a sarcastic comment about whether it had really taken him over ninety hours of customizing to make the Falcon able to do _that_. She settled for asking, "Would it help if I got out and pushed?"

"Not really, sweetheart. Not unless you want to push it sixty miles back to town."

Leia hopped out of the cab and appeared at his side a moment later, holding out his box of tools. At his questioning look, she replied, "I saw them in the back of the truck and though you might need them."

Han dug through the box for a wrench. "Good call."

"You need a hand?"

"No."

It wasn't too long before, more or less humbly and with a noticeable shortage of good humor, he was answering in the affirmative. Within minutes, Leia was standing on her tiptoes digging around beside him in the Falcon's engine. She wasn't afraid to get her hands dirty, and she turned out to be pretty competent with mechanics. ("I insisted on buying my first car myself, despite my low income," she explained. "It turned out to be a lemon, and I spent a lot of time up close and personal with its motor.") Although Han hated to admit it, she and he actually worked well together.

They worked well together for about two hours, and the Falcon still refused to start. The sun was sinking rapidly, casting long shadows across the ground, and swarms of mosquitoes were coming out in full force. Squinting at the engine in what little dim sunlight was left and slapping away a bug perched on his neck, Han had to admit defeat. "I need the tools and extra parts I've got at home. And it'll take me longer to get this fixed than just an hour or two."

"Do you need to call a tow truck?" Leia asked, absently scratching a bug bite on the back of her neck. Her fingers left a streak of black.

"Naw," Han replied, pulling out his cell phone and punching in a text to Chewy. "My friend Lando's got a pickup with a hitch that should be able to drag the Falcon back home, and he owes me a favor. I'll send my roommate to get it. We might have a bit of a wait, though, until he gets here."

Leia swiped her hands against her jeans and lowered herself onto the grass. "Then I might as well get comfy."

"Yeah, why not?" Han agreed, plopping down beside her.

For some reason which he couldn't guess, Leia still preferred to talk to him rather than ignoring Han in favor of listening to the crickets chirp. Many other girls he had dated would have preferred the second option after this flop of a date.

"So, why do you live here? Got family in the area?" Leia asked conversationally.

"Naw," Han replied, keeping his eyes on the Falcon. "My parents died when I was twelve, and my foster parents were in it for the money. I decided to strike out and make my own way rather than depend on them, so I came here as soon as I was of legal age." Once, those words had bothered him. Now they were just that: words. Over the years, they had begun to come to his lips easily, without the thoughts of what they had once meant to a bitter, lonely kid longing for attention and love. He had learned to form a callous against hurts: his own, and those of the world and mankind.

Leia winced. "Sorry."

"That's okay. I learned to look out for myself. Still, I'm surprised your parents were okay with you going on a date with me. My birth parents were a far cry socially— and in other ways—from a mayor and his wife."

He could hear the grin in her voice. "They find me very hard to dissuade when I make up my mind." A moment of silence followed. When she spoke again, the grin was gone. "And Bail and Breha understand that you aren't who your parents are. Mainly because they aren't actually my birth mom and dad."

"Oh."

In the glow from the Falcon's headlights, he saw her lips twitch up in a wry smile. "Oh, indeed. I'm adopted. My last name was actually Skywalker."

Han repeated the name silently in his head, wondering at its familiarity. Skywalker… And then it clicked. _Skywalker._

"You wouldn't…you wouldn't be of any relation to Anakin Skywalker, would you?"

The name had been in all the newspaper headlines years ago, along with "mass shooting" and "ravings against democracy."

"I'm his daughter." The way Leia said the words, bluntly and without feeling, Han knew she had a callous, too. "Of course, Skywalker's in prison somewhere— either that or an insane asylum— and has been there since before I was born. I don't know exactly where. My father—Bail, I mean— won't talk about him. Bail is the only father I've ever known, and a darn good one at that. He was my inspiration for going into the field I'm in, actually. As cliché as it may be, I wanted to be a voice for all those who don't have one. Just like him."

Han snorted. "Not so cliché. Most politicians aren't like that."

"Bad experience?"

"My foster father was one."

"Ah, I see." A moment of silence followed, then Leia's eyes lit up playfully as she turned her head upwards to look at him. "You think I can convince you that one politician isn't all bad, at least?" Apparently, this girl loved a challenge. The worse the odds, the better.

"If that one is you, feel free to give it a shot," he said, teasing. "Hey, you're shivering. You cold?"

"I'm fine."

"I've got my leather coat in the back of the Falcon." Han scrambled to his feet, brushing grass off his pant legs. "I'll grab it for you."

"Why don't you shut off the headlights, too?" Leia suggested. The sky was completely dark now, and twinkling dots of light were popping out against the velvety black backdrop of night. "We could see the stars better that way."

Han obliged and returned to sit by her, sending up a flurry of lightning bugs from the grass. He tucked the jacket around Leia, then slipped an arm around her shoulder and gently drew her up against his side. "Warmer?"

"Much better, thank you." Leia relaxed against his shoulder. She must have had a long day at the office. And people like him, Han reflected guiltily, probably didn't make those lengthy hours any easier.

"The stars are beautiful tonight," Leia murmured.

"When I was a kid, I wanted to be an astronaut, you know," Han said.

Wistfully, she said, "I've always wondered what it would be like to walk on other planets, or to see all the stars zipping past your shuttle window." Leia hesitated. "Some days I think it would be beautiful. Other days, I worry that up close, the stars would be disappointing. Nothing more than chunks of cold, hard rock."

Something in Leia's voice was too personal, too quiet, too introspective to just be referring to the night sky.

It was too similar to doubts Han had felt when he was alone that he had always hidden under the bluster. Leia Organa was strong, he realized. He had always thought strong was burying the insecurities and fears down deep, swaggering through life with his fingers tucked in his belt loops and his face relaying confidence to the world. Leia wasn't that strong, not just a strong that was skin-deep and put on like a jacket. She was strong at her core, strong to be able to share her vulnerabilities instead of hiding them.

He murmured, "They remind me of you."

"The stars? Because they're remote and distant?" she said with a forced laugh. "Boring up close?"

This time, the words came easily. "No. Beautiful."

And she was- wearing his leather jacket around her shoulders and a layer of engine grease on her hands- sharing her vulnerabilities through her reflections on the stars.

Han could hear the smile in Leia's voice when she spoke. "You have your moments, Han Solo. Not many of them, but you do have them." She leaned into the crook of his arm, letting her head rest on his shoulder.

Leia had warmed up to him…but she had had the same effect on him. Han had thought that the date— something just to get through with small talk and driving past a couple of routine scenic country spots— would be a waste of the evening since the mayor's daughter had already proved too clever for his charms. Instead, it had been well worth his time: not because he had gotten any special favors from her, but because he enjoyed just being with _her._ He and Leia sat there— admiring the stars, trying to identify constellations, allowing themselves be lulled by the lullabies of the crickets—until they heard the rumble of Lando's truck through the trees.

In no time, they had the Falcon hooked up and ready to go. While Chewy double checked the hitch, Han worked up his courage. "Hey, Leia, to make it up to ya— again— would you like to go out to supper next week? I'd make sure it was a proper date this time. There's a real nice sit-down restaurant about an hour from here. Haven't been there, but I hear it's real posh."

"Nah," Leia said.

Just as Han was shuffling his feet and trying to decide how to respond, a flicker from Chewy's flashlight lit up Leia's smiling face. "I never got to see just how fast this bucket of bolts could go," she said. "I'd like another plain drive through the countryside better."

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face. "You liked the drive? Breakdowns and all?"

"Hey, all part of the adventure. I had a great night," Leia said, giving the Falcon a pat.

His grin grew wider. "I think you're beginning to like her."

"This piece of trash?" she said, but the words were said with a fond laugh and another pat. And from the smile she proceeded to give him as she hopped up into the truck's cab, Han thought that maybe, just maybe, the Falcon wasn't the only one she was beginning to like.

The next morning, Han grabbed his leather jacket off the bed post and tugged it on. As he headed for the front door, his hand absently slipping into his pocket, he heard the crinkle of paper.

"What is it?" Chewy asked curiously from where he sat at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of coffee. Han didn't even look up at him; his glare was firmly focused on the piece of paper.

"She left a reminder slip in my jacket," he said. "To pay the fine." Chewy expected another storming of the courthouse at any moment. Instead, he was shocked to see that Han didn't seem surprised or angry that Leia still had no intention of letting him slip out of the fine. He just shoved the crumpled paper back into his coat pocket and shook his head wonderingly.

"She's got a lot of nerve. I don't know, Chewie, whaddya think? You think Leia and a guy like me..."


End file.
